Goodbyes
by kenzcraw
Summary: Goodbye hurts. It hurts worse when it's permanent. But what hurts the most is when the one you love doesn't remember it. Clara's POV from "Hell Bent"


**A/N: Hello all. This has massive spoilers for Hell Bent so if you haven't watched it yet, please don't read on.**

 **I could go into minute detail about what I thought of Hell Bent, but I'd exceed the length of the actual story with my drabble and I know none of you want that. So I'll just leave you with what I felt was going through Clara's head during that moment when she literally watched the Doctor forget about her. (Let me just say, it hurt almost worse than everything else in Face the Raven and Heaven Sent.) Hope you enjoy. Reviews and constructive criticism is appreciated**.

You'd think I'd be used to saying goodbye to him. It's happened so many times.

The first time was when I jumped into his Time Stream, whole heartedly thinking I was never coming back. We hadn't gotten a full, proper goodbye, but I asked him to remember me, and he'd shouted my name desperately as I made the leap. The panic in his voice was all I needed to know that he would most definitely remember. Maybe even miss me. I knew, if there was any part of me left to do so, that I would miss him.

Again, when he was an old man, barely able to put one foot in front of the other as he shuffled toward the stairs, toward his final death. He'd held me so gently, thanked me and pressed a kiss to my hair in farewell. I'd been too terrified and crushed to say anything back. I"d begged his people for help, and thank God they listened.

I'd almost abandoned him when he'd gotten his new face. I'd been stupid, ready to say goodbye just when he needed me most. All because I was scared. It took a phone call, a last goodbye from his previous self, to hold me there with the new Doctor, the new face that still had the same sad eyes, no matter what color they were. The same man, different face. How could I have been so ready to do it then?

So I suppose part of me deserved it when he'd abandoned me when I needed him most. He left me on the moon with an astronaut and one of my own students to make an impossible decision. I don't think I've ever been so enraged with anyone, ever. We'd been on the brink of goodbye after that on the Orient Express, and it had terrified me more then than it had when he'd regenerated. But even then I couldn't let him go. And apparently, neither could he.

I was trying to save him when I told him to leave me on Earth when the forest grew overnight. He'd fought with me, and I could see the naked panic on his face when I'd told him I didn't want him to save me. I didn't want to hurt him, I really didn't. It was the last thing I wanted. But I couldn't bring myself to be the last of my kind, either. He may have been able to live with that weight in his hearts, but he had two. I only had the one, and I don't think it could have borne it. Turned out we'd both been a bit dramatic, and no one needed saving that day.

After the Cybermen… I tried not to think about that day. Not the day I lost Danny, and definitely not the day I lost the Doctor. Really lost him, for real this time. He'd gone off in his box without me after the first proper hug he'd ever given me in his new body, and I'd resigned myself to the fact that I would never see him again. That pain had been enough to bring me to my knees some nights, when I would come home after school, expecting the TARDIS to be blocking my door, only to find it stingingly empty of the blue box. And my best friend. I'd missed him so much I couldn't breathe. That goodbye was something I never wanted to try to live through again.

So when he'd come back for me on Christmas, and I ran away with him, I'd made a silent promise to myself.

I would never live without him again. Never again would we try to say goodbye to each other. Never again would I feel that ache from the hole he'd left, the hole only he could fill. My Doctor. Until forever came or until I died, whichever came first, I would be by his side.

That moment came too soon. It wasn't enough time. BUT the raven was calling. I held him tight, clung to his hand, stroked his cheek. But no amount of comforting was enough to erase the agony I could see in his eyes. Agony that I felt in my own chest at the lost expression on his face. I couldn't bear the sight of his grief, could barely force the words that he needed to hear past my lips after he'd kissed my hand and I pulled away from him. My only consolation as I walked out to meet the raven was that my own heartbreak would only last a few more moments. His? Oh, how I wished I could save him from his.

Until this moment. This moment I'm in right now. We've pressed the button. Together, just as we've always done. He hadn't even let me die on my own, he'd had my back even in that. But as I watch his eyes unfocus, I feel my chest twist with more anguish than I thought was possible. Though, in some way, I knew I was saving him from heartbreak, there was nothing to save me from mine this time.

"No," I gasp. No, please don't forget me, please please please. Don't leave me here alone.

"Run like hell," he grits out between clenched teeth. He's sinking to his knees, clutching at the white console.

"What?" I ask as I kneel with him, staying at eye level.

"Run like hell, because you'll always need to," the Doctor says desperately. "Laugh at everything, because it's always funny." He's smiling at me, but he looks like he's hurting.

I don't need a heartbeat to feel the wrenching in my chest. My voice comes out trembling and even more desperate than his. "No stop it, you're saying goodbye. Don't say goodbye!" Please don't do this, Doctor, please. Not again, because this feels way too permanent.

"Never be cruel," the Doctor continues, and his body sways. I grip his wrist with one hand, cling to the lapels on his coat with the other, white-knuckled with terror. "And never be cowardly. But if you ever are, always make amends."

His eyes unfocus again, and he slumps backwards onto the floor with a small gasp.

"No, stop it!" I exclaim. I'm not even sure what I want to stop. Stop his goodbye, or stop the memories he has of me from leaving. Oh God it hurts, it hurts. "Stop this! Stop it!"

"Never eat pears," he insists. "They're too squishy. And they always make your chin wet." His finger comes up to point at me. "That one's quite important, write it down."

"I didn't mean to do this," I say. "I'm sorry." I want to take it back. Please let me take it back. We can fix it, we always fixed it. We could do it again, right? We could.

"It's okay," he says with a half-smile and another gasp. And in his eyes, I can see it. He's accepted it, bears no malice toward me for it. "It's _okay_."

I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears starting to flow out of my eyes. Not this, please not this again. I can't do it again.

"I went too far," the Doctor says. "I broke all my own rules. I became the Hybrid. This is _right_." He pants for a moment before he says "I accept it."

In a flash, I can see what's waiting for me. A yawning chasm that is my future. A future without my Doctor, without my best friend, in an empty TARDIS that he stole after fighting for four and a half billion years to save me. All of it, all he's done and endured for me, and this is all he gets? No memories of why he was tortured, no way of knowing if it was worth it? I wasn't worth it, not now, it wasn't worth it. None of his suffering is worth this. He wouldn't even remember why he did it!

He won't remember me. He won't remember everything we've done. Everything we've been through, good and bad. Everything he means to me, everything we mean to each other, he won't remember it.

"I can't," I whisper. I can't be any louder, my throat is too tight and the tears are coming too thick. He doesn't respond, and he's looking more and more distant. But he's fighting it, whatever it is that's pulling him away from me. "There has to be something I can do." Anything, I'll do absolutely anything. He battled his demons endlessly for me, I have to do something. I can't accept that he'll carry all those years of pain, all alone, without knowing why.

The Doctor refocuses on me, and I can see that even sitting up enough to look at me is hard. "Smile for me," he says, and my heart twists unbearably. "Go on, Clara Oswald."

No, Doctor, no. Please no, there has to be something. Anything at all. Please.

"One last time," he whispers. It's almost a plea.

That chasm tears wider, impossibly wide. I'll be all alone too. Alone to bear that hole he'll leave in my chest. I can feel it already, ripping and slicing open with each passing second. Because I can see him slipping away from me, moment by moment. He is slumping farther and farther to the floor.

"How could I smile?" I whisper. I don't think I'll ever be able to smile again. How could I? I'm losing everything that matters to me. I'm losing him.

"It's okay," the Doctor murmurs back. His eyes are almost shut, but he's holding on to my hand with a gentle grip and I crush his back. "Don't you worry… I'll remember you."

He looks up at me for a brief moment, then collapses backwards. He releases my hand, and his eyes slide all the way shut. And what's left of my silent heart shatters.

 **A/N: I think I might write out the final scene in the diner, and maybe the scene in the Cloisters. What do you guys think? This is my form of therapy, so give me ideas. Thanks for reading!**


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